There's Nothing That Allays An Angry Mind

Who Doubting Tyranny, And Fainting Under Fortune's False Lottery, Desperately Run To Death, For Dread Of Death; That Soul's Most Stout, That, Bearing All Mischance, Dares Last It Out.

As High As Heaven, As Deep As Hell.

Of All The Paths [that] Lead To A Woman's Love Pity's The Straightest.

My Virginity, That From My Childhood Kept Me Company, Is Heavier Than I Can Endure To Bear. Forgive Me, Cupid, For Thou Art God, And I A Wretched Creature: I Have Sinn'd; But Be Thou Merciful, And Grant That Yet I May Enjoy What Thou Wilt Have Me Love!

If Men Wound You With Injuries, Meet Them With Patience; Hasty Words Rankle The Wound, Soft Language Dresses It, Forgiveness Cures It, And Oblivion Takes Away The Scar. It Is More Noble By Silence To Avoid An Injury Than By Argument To Overcome It.